


and so they fall

by gaygh0stt



Series: and so they fall [1]
Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Denial, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Realizations, Unrequited Love, he’s in denial, he’s less painfully oblivious and more just plain ignorant, or more like he just ignores them, owen doesn’t know what a feeling is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23625388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaygh0stt/pseuds/gaygh0stt
Summary: Puzzles were quite often left unfinished. Owen had hoped that this one would be as well, but it was inevitable that one day all the pieces would fall into place. He just wasn't sure if he would like the finished picture.
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Series: and so they fall [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710574
Comments: 7
Kudos: 83





	and so they fall

**Author's Note:**

> I stayed up for a week to write this and don’t remember half of what I wrote, enjoy

Owen’s fist met with the other man’s jaw before he could pull the alarm, slamming the back of his head against the wall and effectively knocking him out. Curt was still occupied in the room behind him, retrieving the files they were after while Owen kept watch. No other guards seemed to have noticed them yet, but they still had to make it quick. If one had already found them others were bound to follow.

Curt stepped out of the room, waving the documents at Owen before stuffing them inside his jacket. His face was lit up with a smile and his eyes had a shine to them that only came with the thrill of a mission. “Got ‘em, now let’s get out of this shit hole,” he joined Owen at his side, keeping one hand on the gun at his hip, in case another guard rounded the corner. 

“After you,” he mockingly bowed, taking pleasure in the eye roll and soft laugh Curt gave him in response.

“Idiot.”

“Oh, but you’re stuck with me, right love?” Owen glanced up at him, a teasing smile adorning his face.

“Unfortunately,” Curt scoffed, turning to lead the way out of the building. They made a hasty exit, running into two more guards on their way out. They quickly disarmed them before shooting them in the knees. They wouldn’t be able to follow them, but they’d live. They’d probably forget their faces after passing out from the pain and blood loss. They got out without any further trouble, exiting from the back and taking a winding alleyway to the main street. The files were still safely tucked away in Curt’s jacket.

Owen clapped him on the shoulder, “Well, I’d say that was a job well done.” If his fingers lingered a moment too long, neither noticed. “Care to celebrate?” He asked, “I believe I have a bottle of whiskey waiting to be opened.”

“Do I look like one to turn down a drink, Carvour?” He smirked up at him, eyes sparkling in the dim light of dusk. His heart fluttered at the sight and he swallowed down any thoughts threatening to bubble up. Owen knew very well that Curt was not one to turn down a drink and felt a tinge of worry at what could happen if they were both in an inebriated state. He decided he wouldn’t let himself drink too much that night, despite being the one who had proposed the idea.

He led the way into the hotel, Curt trailing closely behind. They made their way up to Owen’s hotel room in silence. It was one of the few times their agencies had bothered getting them separate rooms, and that was only because the hotel they were staying out was booked out of double rooms. 

Owen unlocked the door before pushing it open, letting Curt enter first. He closed and relocked it behind him as Curt checked the room for bugs, then took out the bottle of whiskey. He wasn’t particularly fond of the stuff, but Curt seemed to be. He told himself he had only gotten it to impress his _friend_ , nothing more. 

They fell back into easy conversation, Curt drinking much more than Owen. He kept good on his promise to himself, he only had a few drinks before leaving the rest to Curt. He ignored the slight guilt he felt at getting his friend drunk while he stayed mostly sober. His partner was as smiley as ever, face flushed from the alcohol. Owen felt his eyes drawn to his lips, watching as he brought his glass to them once again. 

They sat on opposite ends of Owen’s bed. Curt’s back propped up against the headboard as Owen stuck to the foot of the bed, keeping a comfortable distance between them. He felt the need to be closer to him, but he pushed it to the back of his mind.

Before too long, the bottle was finished and Curt was retreating back to his own room. He gave Owen one last smile before shutting the door behind him, leaving Owen alone with his thoughts.

The room seemed too quiet now that Curt had left, and much too big. Owen felt like it was taunting him. He was starting to think he was spending too much time with his partner because every time he left he felt as if there was a hole inside his chest, growing bigger with each passing second of Curt's absence. He didn't think too much into it, but the nagging feeling of being alone was beginning to swallow him whole.

...

Parties were never quite Owen’s scene. Curt always seemed to excel in the lively crowds, he could pull out the charm at any given moment to woo whoever may speak to him. Owen, on the other hand, being the more withdrawn of the two, found himself slipping to the outskirts of the room and blending in with the shadows at these events. Sure, if he had to make conversation or seduce an unassuming partygoer he could, but he never did anything he didn’t have to. Tonight, however, was different. Curt was on his arm, guiding him around and introducing him to countless people that he was sure he wouldn’t remember after a day. He made polite conversation with them but left Curt to do most of the talking. He much preferred to listen, anyways.

Tonight, he and Curt were William Hurst and Nathaniel Monaghan respectively, business partners who were new to the city and hoping to find some associates. Curt chatted away next to him, though he had tuned out what he was saying long ago his voice was still melodic in his ears. A soft siren’s song, drawing him in. He almost forgot about the party going on around him, completely entranced by the man standing next to him. He tried to ignore the slight pull in his stomach when Curt glanced over to him, throwing him a soft smile. He could tell he was uncomfortable from all the people and gave his arm a slight squeeze before resuming his conversation. 

Owen glanced around the room, he had barely taken in any information during the duration of their mission. He seemed to have become quite distracted by Curt and busied himself with a glass of champagne. He tried to keep alert and listen in on the conversations around in an attempt to find out any information regarding their current case, but he always found his thoughts being drawn back to the voice beside him. 

He never paid attention to the words, he couldn’t be bothered enough to care, but Curt’s voice was utterly enthralling. He couldn’t pull himself out of its hold no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t quite know what it was about the sound that drew him in exactly, but eventually, he found it hard to take his eyes off of him. Perhaps it was the gentle way the words rolled off his tongue or the slight curve of his lips before he laughed. 

It was dangerous, probably, watching his partner like this. One might take it the wrong way and try to use it against him. _Not that it’d do them any good, though, there simply wasn’t anything there to use against him._ Whatever claims one could make would easily be discredited and written off as far-fetched speculation. Yet still, the worry stayed, in the back of Owen’s mind, that perhaps those claims wouldn’t be entirely unfounded. He decided not to dwell on that.

Instead, he found a new glass of champagne to occupy his hands and let himself get lost in the constant drone of the party. He no longer cared if he didn’t collect any useful information that night, Curt had done enough talking for the both of them and was bound to have discovered something of use to their mission. So Owen let himself turn to drink after drink, sure he wouldn’t remember the night, or the feelings it brought along with it, the next morning. Nor would he remember the worried glances Curt sent his way, full of concern and perhaps something else that Owen couldn’t quite name. 

…

The cool night air was a welcome change as they stepped out of the building, a stark contrast to the heat of the casino. Full of crowding bodies and the reek of alcohol, casinos were one of Owen’s least favorite places. _Oh, what he put up with for the job._ Still, Owen felt himself drawn to Curt’s side despite the feeling of overcrowding and overheating lingering from the casino. 

They had gotten what they had come for and were more than ready to turn in for the night. Owen wanted to collapse right there out on the street, he dreaded the long trek back to their shared hotel room across the city. They walked in silence, falling in step with each other. Neither had quite enough energy to speak. Owen missed Curt’s smile from the casino, the slight glassy look in his eyes from the alcohol. Now, his cheeks were flushed, just barely visible in the streetlights. Even in the dull light, Owen could see him clearly. A small smile remained on his lips, but it wasn’t nearly as big as it was back inside. He had sobered up slightly since they left and the drunken giddiness was all but gone. 

Owen continued to study his partner’s face, trying to take in all the little details. He had a small splattering of freckles dusting his cheeks and nose. His brown eyes still shone, impossibly bright in the darkness. He looked away before he could take his thoughts any further. 

The more they walked the more the warmth from the casino wore off and the colder he got. He inched closer to Curt, for no reason other than the cold seeping into his bones. Curt seemed to radiate warmth everywhere he went, Owen wanted to bask in it. For a second, he saw Curt as the sun; a ball of light and warmth that his life had begun to revolve around. He feared that if he got too close he would be burned. Their fingers brushed ever so slightly as they walked, sending sparks up Owen’s arm. He ignored it and pretended it was just the cold playing tricks on his body.

The streets were empty. The eerie quiet hung over them, willing one of them to speak and break its spell. Neither complied. Instead, they let the silence consume them. It was as if a small bubble had formed around the two, waiting to be broken by someone’s words. But the words never came. 

They didn’t talk for the entire walk back. It was a comfortable silence, though. Everything with Curt was comfortable, even when unwanted thoughts tried to pry their way into Owen’s head. Owen was almost thankful for the silence; if he spoke he could have said something he would regret, so maybe it was better that they had said nothing at all. He would have been thankful if it wasn’t for the quiet voice in the back of his head, longing to hear Curt’s voice yet again.

…

The dull yellow light of their hotel room was all that greeted them when they arrived. They were covered in grime, blood, and sweat. Curt’s usually precisely styled hair was askew, any product having washed out from the sweat and humidity. It was soft and slightly curled at the ends, Owen felt compelled to reach out and touch it, to feel how soft it was for himself. Instead, he turned away, pulling off his jacket and tossing it to the floor. He couldn’t be bothered to put it up, it was covered in soot anyways. He grabbed his bag from beside his bed before making his way to their shitty ensuite bathroom. “I call the first shower,” he said, closing the bathroom door before Curt could object.

“Asshole.” He heard Curt mutter from the other side of the door. He let out a soft laugh. He turned on the water and peeled off his dirty clothes. He doubted the water would ever get warm, but it was still better than nothing. He stepped in and let the water run over him, relishing in the feeling as the grime washed away. 

He always hated blowing up compounds. They always left covered in soot and blood, it really wasn’t a pleasant scene. The exhilaration of the job had long since left him. Everything was commonplace for him now, he had nothing to be excited for anymore. 

It took a few minutes to get himself fully clean, the water never did warm up but he really couldn’t complain. He stepped out, reaching for one of the threadbare towels hanging on the rack. It scraped against the small cuts littering his body. He hated the hotels they stayed at. Owen seemed to have an ever-growing list of things he hated about their missions, but something kept him from quitting. Logically, he knew what it was. Or _who_ it was. But he would never admit it. 

He finally left the bathroom, coming face to face with a very grumpy Curt. “Use all the hot water did you?” He scowled, pushing past him.

Owen scoffed, “Love, there was no hot water to begin with.” The pet name rolled off his tongue like honey; sickly sweet, yet it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He silently cursed himself for using it.

Curt was in the shower for longer than Owen had been and he found himself getting lonely in his absence. He really couldn’t go ten minutes without seeing his partner, could he? He felt pathetic. He wanted the mission to be over. To be back at his flat in London, at least there he wasn’t taunted by memories of Curt everywhere he looked. His flat was untainted by Curt’s presence, and would most likely stay that way. He wasn’t sure if that relieved him or not.

He pulled out a book from his bag, he had already read it too many times to count, but it didn’t matter. It gave him something to do. It was a distraction from the emptiness of the room. 

When Curt emerged, he was back to his clean, well-groomed self, but something about him was still soft around the edges. His hair was loose and fell across his forehead in soft curls. Owen wished he would never style it again. Curt hadn’t noticed him staring, and Owen looked away before he had the chance to.

“You’re right,” Curt laughed, causing Owen to look up again, “The water is shit.” Owen smiled.

“Yeah, you’d think they’d provide us with better accommodations in thanks for all the, you know, life-risking we do, but alas they only give us this.” His book had long since fallen to his lap in favor of watching Curt. He laughed again, his smile growing wider. Owen’s heart skipped watching him. He almost let himself think that his partner was beautiful, but that wasn’t something friends thought of each other. So he let the thought be buried away.

…

“Why do you always get to be the seducer? I’ll have you know that women find me very attractive,” Curt had been whining about this for the past ten minutes, ever since they had read through the mission plans. Owen stared at him, unimpressed.

“Curt, darling, no one is saying you are unattractive but you have to admit you suck at flirting,” Curt’s frown grew and Owen just rolled his eyes at the man. “You just make a fool out of yourself. Last time you tried to use ‘when you stole that bomb you stole my heart’. What the fuck even was that, love?” Curt really wasn’t _that_ bad at flirting, he could truly charm anyone if he had to, but Owen couldn’t pass up a chance to tear his partner down a bit. Good for the ego.

“Oh, come on, that was _one_ time, Carvour!” He threw his hands out in an exasperated motion. “It’s not like you’ve never said anything weird in those situations.”

“Well if you’re so confident in yourself, I guess you can take the girl this time,” Owen let out a dramatic sigh, “You’re really that desperate to get laid huh?” Curt sputtered, face growing red. 

“I am not! This is purely professional, I would never,” he rushed to defend himself as Owen tried to stifle his laughter. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing.”

“Oh, you should see the look on your face, Curt! Priceless,” he couldn’t hold it in any longer and was doubled over laughing, tears building in his eyes. He hadn’t laughed like this in a long time; it was nice. Curt punched him in the shoulder but laughed along with him.

“You’re an asshole, Owen.”

“Is that the best you could come up with?”

Their bickering continued as they got ready for the party, but they ultimately decided Curt would be the one to seduce Evelyn. Owen wasn’t sure why, but he felt a little uneasy at letting his partner do it. But Curt had just continued his whining until Owen actually agreed to let him do it. At this point, he thought it was purely to prove to him that he could flirt. 

They arrived at the party and Owen found a spot with a good view of Evelyn as Curt went off to introduce himself. He made sure Curt could hear him through his earpiece in case anything went wrong, and they were good to go.

Owen tried to ignore the strange feeling in his chest as he listened to Curt through the comm. Owen felt his chest tighten at every word coming out of Curt’s mouth; they were sickeningly sweet and cheesy as hell. Not all of his previous teasing was an exaggeration, the man really was a terrible flirt, he just managed to make it work. He watched as Curt got closer and closer to Evelyn throughout the night. He was right up on her, hand gently resting on her waist and lips brushing her ear. She laughed at something he said; Owen was no longer taking in any of his words. All he felt was the sickening twist of his stomach as he watched the two dance. 

He needed to get out and get some fresh air, but he knew he couldn’t leave yet. He had to wait until he knew Curt had secured Evelyn. He would just have to wait a bit longer. Since he couldn’t leave the party, he occupied himself with getting a drink. One drink wouldn’t hurt, for now, he’d be sober enough to keep a lookout. He hadn’t seen any suspicious persons throughout the night, so he was fairly sure it would be fine. 

The world seemed to slow around him as he turned to look at Curt. It was the worst moment he could have chosen to turn around. His lips were on Evelyn’s, hands gripping her waist and pulling her close. Owen felt his stomach drop. He couldn't watch but couldn't tear his eyes away either. All those irrational thoughts that popped up at the strangest of times and all of the unexplainable feelings were starting to make sense. The pieces were all falling into place. The missing piece of the puzzle had been found.

He watched as Curt led Evelyn away, keeping a hand firmly planted at the small of her back. He met eyes with Owen as he walked out, throwing him a wink before rounding the corner. 

Owen ripped his eyes away, grabbing the nearest drink he could find. He downed it. Then another, and another, and another. Until everything blended together and he no longer knew where he was or what was happening. He shouldn't be drinking like this on a mission, but his job was already practically done. It was all up to Curt now. All up to Curt and that _girl_. He didn't matter anymore.

That night, he had been on the brink of realising what he had long kept buried in the deepest recesses of his mind, but the alcohol would assure those thoughts stayed buried for at least one more night.

…

The bar was fairly empty when they arrived, just a few small groups speckled throughout the facility as well as a lone drinker or two. Owen let Curt grab them drinks while he got them a booth towards the back. They had a few days off before the next phase of their mission so they were able to enjoy the city. Curt apparently thought this meant going to bars every night and, well, Owen really couldn't say no to him. 

So here they were, their third bar in three nights. Owen might need to give Curt a little talk about his alcohol problem, but he decided it could wait. For now, he would just enjoy his partner's company and ignore the twinge of guilt at indulging his bad habits. 

Curt returned shortly after, drinks in hand and a wide grin spread across his face. He was much too happy at spending yet another night at a shitty, overpriced bar. It was kind of adorable, in a very childish sort of way, Owen thought. Curt was content with doing the same thing over and over, even if it was just being at a shitty bar drinking shitty beer with his shitty partner. He approached everything with a childlike glee, as if everything was new and exciting to him. He was the sort of person to become a spy just because he liked seeing them in the movies. Owen knew that was actually the case because of a night just like this where Curt was happily drunk and Owen was much too sober. 

Owen realized Curt had been talking and was waiting for a reply, looking up at him expectantly from the opposite side of the booth. "I'm sorry, what?" Owen said, slightly embarrassed at having zoned out.

"I said, are you seeing anyone?" Owen froze at the question. _Had Curt caught on?_ No, there was nothing to catch on to, he reminded himself. Though he was starting to believe that less and less.

"Uh, no, not really," he replied finally, regaining his composure and hoping he didn't seem too surprised at the question

"Oh," Curt responded simply, "Me neither." After a moment, he went back to whatever he had been discussing before as if he had never asked the question. 

Owen just watched him, feeling his eyes drawn towards Curt's lips yet again. This was becoming much too common of an occurrence for Owen's liking. Over the course of the last year, he found himself watching Curt more and more. Whether it be watching how his hands worked at a safe or how his eyes lit up as he talked, Owen always seemed to have his eyes on Curt. Most prominently, he was drawn to Curt's lips. 

There was just something about the way they moved that entranced him. For a brief, brief moment he wondered what they would feel like against his. _How would they move against Owen’s own?_ _How would he taste? If he kissed him, would he kiss back?_ Owen quickly shook the thought from his head, feeling his face grow warm. He realised he had leaned slightly closer to Curt and drew back, grabbing his glass and downing the rest of his drink before excusing himself to get another.

He was much, much too sober for this. He didn’t know where the thoughts were coming from and he just wanted them to stop. He wasn’t like that; he wasn’t sick _. Oh,_ chimed the quiet voice in the back of his head, _but you are, aren’t you?_ He got another drink and downed it. Then another. Then another. He slumped forward, elbows leaning against the bar counter, head hung low between his arms. _Fuck._ Curt was probably beginning to worry, he had been gone far too long. He was surprised he hadn’t come looking for him yet.

Owen sighed before getting up and leaving the bar. He knew Curt could probably see him leave, but he didn’t care. He needed to get away; from the bar, from Curt, from _everything._ It was all too much.

He didn’t go far, only a little down the street. He sat in a dark alleyway, head in his hands and thoughts running rampant. He didn’t notice the footsteps approaching until he felt hands grabbing at his clothes and pulling him up off the ground. He didn’t have enough energy to try and fight back or to even look up and see who his possible assailant was. But an attack never came, only arms wrapping around him and fingers carding through his hair.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” Of course Curt had found him. He didn’t know how long he had been sitting in that alley, but Curt came for him. Owen was slumped against the other man’s shoulder, face buried in the crook of his neck. It was slightly uncomfortable, given he was the taller of the two, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. He shouldn’t be letting Curt touch him like this. He shouldn’t be letting himself be comforted by it. He was _sick._ Curt would catch on eventually and he would be disgusted. He would run away, faster than he ever did during the peril of a mission. He would leave him. He could lose his job; though, at this point, he might not mind that.

Owen couldn’t bring himself to respond. He felt sick. He pushed Curt off of him before doubling over and retching, just barely missing Curt’s shoes. Curt jumped back, away from the vomit but not away from Owen. His hands were rubbing his back and pulling back his hair. “Fuck, Owen, what happened?” His voice was laced with genuine concern, leaving Owen feeling slightly guilty.

“‘M fine,” he coughed, “I’m fine, Curt, I just drank too much. Needed to get away, that’s all.” He looked up at Curt, mustering up a smile for him. Curt wasn’t convinced.

“Are you sure ‘that’s all’?” Curt asked. Owen could tell he didn’t believe him in the slightest.

“No,” Owen admitted. He wouldn’t tell him the full truth, obviously, but he couldn’t let himself just lie to Curt. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Curt’s voice was gentle, the softest Owen had ever heard him. Owen melted.

“I just… I was thinking about the job, you know, questioning why I stay. Why do I keep risking my life for these missions when I barely get shit back? I guess I’m just having doubts about this being the job for me,” he let out a bitter laugh, “Maybe I should have just been an actor.”

Curt was silent for a moment, thinking over how to respond. Owen hoped he wouldn’t catch his bluff. Owen really did have doubts about being a spy, but he knew that wasn’t what had him down. 

“I understand,” Curt said finally, “Sometimes I question why I continue to do it, too. I mean Cynthia sure doesn’t encourage me to stay or offer me any thanks.” He laughed at that before continuing, “But I think I know why I stay. I love the job, sure, but it’s all the same to me now. There’s never anything new anymore. But, there is you.” He looked at him and smiled and Owen's heart almost burst out of his chest. _Fuck. He shouldn't be letting himself feel this way._ "I think I stay because of you." 

Owen fell. He was falling apart and Curt was completely oblivious to what he was doing to him. _God, he was in love._ He was so in love. He was completely and irrevocably in love with Curt Mega. He was so dumb to have not realized it before, all the signs were there. He knew they were. He had just been ignoring them, shoving them deep, deep down where he’d hoped they’d never reach him. But they did.

He willed himself to respond, “Really? _I’m_ the reason you stay?” He brought his head up from where it lay in his hands, bringing his eyes to meet Curt’s, “Not the ‘thrill of the chase’ or all the girls?” He couldn’t keep the small smile from forming on his lips.

“No,” Curt laughed, “It’s definitely you. You make the job interesting, you know? You keep it from becoming boring. You also keep Cynthia off my back, since you practically never fuck up. And you manage to keep me in line, which I admit is a hard task.” He smiled at him and lightly nudged his shoulder. “Now come on buddy, let’s get you back to the hotel.” He stood up, reaching down to help Owen stand. He obliged and leaned against him for support as they walked out of the alley. 

“You know, I think you’re the reason I stay, too.” Curt gave his shoulders a slight squeeze, an awkward half-hug, and the smile never left his face. Owen pushed down all the thoughts clawing their way into his mind, all the thoughts of disgust and shame at what he felt. _If it was wrong to feel this way then why did it feel so right?_ Why did he look at Curt and feel like he was the only thing in this universe that was worth existing for?

He looked at Curt under the moonlight. He could barely see him in the shadows, but he was beautiful. Owen let himself think it, there was no stopping it. He no longer held back, he let himself admire his partner. For once, he let himself love Curt freely. Even if he could never speak that love into existence, he could have it for himself. In his mind, his love was the holiest and sacred thing he could bring into this world. He would just have to keep it under lock and key.

He was in love. It may have been dangerous and he may have just been signing himself up for despair, but he didn't care. He could keep this for himself. He could have this. And if he hurt himself in the process, he would just have to live with it.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> wow look I wrote something without a single kiss, are you proud of me?  
> I'm planning to add more to this eventually, but it really just depends on how I feel
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, love y’all ❤️
> 
> (Fun fact: I was texting my friend while writing this and he kept trying to turn Owen into a donut fucker. No I will not ellaborate)


End file.
